


Ginger Tea and Gossip

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [58]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Conversations before the fire, Developing Relationship, Gossip, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: The team spends time together at Ianto's flat, licking their wounds and taking care of one another.  Jack is particularly attentive to Ianto, and the two spend time together, soothing various hurts and speculating about the team.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Niffler [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1276304
Comments: 54
Kudos: 54





	Ginger Tea and Gossip

Leaving Jack and Owen in the kitchen, Ianto went to the bathroom and found the tub of salve that Draco had left, along with a fat roll of gauze. He returned to the living room and sat on the sofa between Gwen and Toshiko. Tosh unlaced his trainers for him so he could kick them off, and he applied the salve, first to her neck and then to her wrists, his hands still shaking as he wrapped the self-sticking gauze gently around her delicate wrists.

“What is that salve?” she asked, taking the tub and giving a sniff. “It smells lovely, and it’s so soothing. My wrists and neck aren’t burning, anymore.” She dipped her fingers in and took Ianto’s hand, smoothing the salve onto one of his wrists, which had been badly bruised by the handcuffs and then rubbed raw by the coarse rope that had bound him.

Ianto could not hide the initial flinch, but he closed his eyes and sighed in relief as Tosh gently worked the salve into his skin. She coated it on thickly, as Ianto had for her, and then gently wrapped the gauze around his wrist. “A friend of mine dabbles in natural remedies. She mixes up all sorts of useful things,” he smiled.

Gwen’s eyes widened. “You don’t know what’s in it?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “I could probably guess some of the ingredients.” He’d been good with Potions and Herbology; it’d be fairly simple to figure it out. “But I don’t know what’s in most of the tubs and tubes at the chemist’s, either. Why would this bother me?”

“You must trust her,” Tosh smiled.

“With my life,” he replied simply, a small smile playing at his lips.

Jack frowned at the exchange as he headed into the room with the mugs of tea. Owen was already slurping at his like it was nectar.

“Tea Boy, this is amazing,” he declared.

“Who’s Neville Short-Pants?” Jack asked, grinning.

“School nickname. I think you met Neville, actually,” Ianto sipped at the tea, closing his eyes and allowing the warmth to soothe him as the ginger and tea blend began to do their work. “This should settle everyone. Make eating less of a chore.”

Ianto told Owen where the blankets and cushions were, so he and Jack could sit more comfortably. Jack moved the coffee table, and once they had cushions, Jack settled on the floor, leaning against the sofa between Ianto and Toshiko, and Owen took the spot between Ianto and Gwen. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea. Conversation ebbed and flowed quietly until Jack, having finished his tea, took the pot of salve and tended Ianto’s other wrist.

“This is like the lip balm you use,” he said, recognizing the scent.

Ianto nodded. He gingerly touched one corner of his mouth and reached for the salve. “May I?”

Jack sat up and dipped one finger in the salve. “Allow me,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Ah, Christ, Jack. Do you have to molest the Tea Boy in front of us?”

“Steady on, Dr. Harper. Do you want to make him go down the hall to find a mirror and do this himself?” Jack frowned at Owen, who had been grumbling about how unsteady Ianto had been when he left the kitchen, earlier.

“Pfft,” Owen waved a hand, essentially conceding the point.

Jack very carefully applied the salve to the corners of Ianto’s mouth, moving towards his cheeks where the gag had abraded his skin. Jack was completely focused on being gentle, with none of the sexual charge from earlier. He didn’t want to hurt Ianto; the younger man had suffered more than enough.

Ianto closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Jack’s soothing ministrations. His wrists and face were no longer hurting. It was a relief to have the number of sore areas on his body reduced, even if the areas no longer hurting were by no means the most painful. He opened his eyes as Jack pulled away. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Jack looked down, seeming almost shy, all of a sudden. “You’re welcome,” he answered, replacing the top on the container.

Ianto blinked. Jack? Looking bashful? He couldn’t seem to make that thought make sense. For a moment it worried him that the blows to the head might be affecting his cognitive abilities, but then he realized that a bashful Jack would not make sense, even if he were not concussed.

He smiled broadly enough that his face hurt, even with the salve.

Gwen had turned on the television while Jack tended Ianto and the screen was filled with news reports of cannibals in the Welsh countryside. By mutual agreement, she found a channel showing old movies. As Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn capered, the food arrived. Soon the team was tucking into vast quantities of Chinese food – mostly vegetarian.

Except for Ianto. “I’m not sure I can,” he said. The tea had helped, and he _was_ hungry, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of eating anything.

“Here,” Toshiko spooned half a small container of rice into a bowl of egg drop soup. “This will put something on your stomach, but it’s pretty bland.”

She and Jack took turns feeding Ianto, whose hands were shaking too much for him to feed himself without wearing more than what reached his mouth.

It felt strange, the attention. Even Owen fussed over him, a bit, and Gwen kept asking if she could get him anything. He suspected Owen would not have allowed her to do any of the things she offered or asked about, and he hoped that they would not flaunt whatever was brewing between them. As it was, he was certain Tosh had noticed the sparks fueling Jack’s attentions, judging by the amused smile she sent his way every time Jack jumped to do something for him.

Owen distributed more painkillers and they watched another movie, then Jack carried the sleeping women, one by one, to the bed. Owen and Ianto followed, Owen to turn down the bed and Ianto to retrieve his favorite pillow and blanket to carry back to the living room. He stopped in the hallway and showed Owen and Jack the spare room.

“The futon is very comfortable. You know where the blankets and pillows are. I’ll leave you two to fight over it.”

“You take it, Owen,” Jack offered. “I brought some paperwork to do.”

Owen nodded and headed for the futon, easily converting it to his sleeping arrangements for the night. He handed Jack a pillow and blanket and grabbed the same, for himself. “Did he eat much?”

Jack nodded. “A pretty good amount, once he got started. Now we know the secret to getting a reasonable meal into him is to feed it to him.”

“ _He_ can hear you,” Ianto grumbled from the hallway.

Jack chuckled and followed the younger man back to the living room. “You want me to make up the sofa for you?”

Ianto lit the gas fireplace and turned to look at the chair. “I can’t lie flat when my head hurts this badly,” he muttered. He looked at Jack, too tired to be embarrassed. “I think I sat too long. Moving is awkward. Can you help me get settled, please?”

Jack nodded. He helped Ianto ease himself into the chair – he had grown more stiff and sore as the hours had passed. Jack moved the ottoman close and helped Ianto raise his legs to rest upon it. Then he helped arrange the pillow behind him, then the blanket over him.

“Thank you, Jack,” Ianto breathed, closing his eyes. The pain was still there, but the meds had made it bearable enough that he hoped to be able to sleep. “Can you,” he hesitated. Jack had been so kind and attentive. He hated to ask for more.

“What do you need, Ianto?” Jack sensed the younger man’s hesitation and was having none of it.

“Can you bring me one of the bottles of water? There are markings on some, but just bring me a plain one, please.”

Jack reached out and touched Ianto’s cheek, then headed to the kitchen. He returned less than a minute later with a bottle for Ianto and a sealed one from the refrigerator, for himself. They sat quietly for a few moments, drinking their water.

“Do you think you’ll sleep?” Jack asked.

“I hope so,” Ianto sighed. “’m _so_ tired, but still feel wide awake.” He shifted to try to get more comfortable, then hissed as he found another bruise. “Did you really bring paperwork?”

“Yes, but I might borrow something from your bookshelf, instead,” Jack smiled.

“Do you think,” again, Ianto hesitated.

“What?” Jack reached out and took Ianto’s hand. “Ask. If it’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”

Ianto sniffed and turned his head, looking at Jack. Jack hated the pain he saw in those lovely eyes, several shades darker than normal and the pupils dilated to different sizes because of the concussion. Owen had been concerned, but the scans showed that none of the damage was severe.

“Will you read to me?” Ianto asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Jack smiled. “Of course. Anything in particular?”

“Whatever you would have chosen to read. I don’t mind. I just,” Jack thought he detected a slight blush, beneath the bruises. “I think if I can hear you reading, I’ll know I’m here, and not alone.” _And not tied up and bleeding to death._ He shuddered.

Jack brushed his thumb across the back of Ianto’s hand, then released it. He went to the bookshelf and read through the titles. He was reluctant to choose a novel, as a story might engage Ianto’s mind enough to keep him awake. No, Jack needed something that would provide a soothing background noise so Ianto could rest.

He grabbed a thick anthology of poetry and began paging through, to find something suitable. He smiled and began reading, “Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!”[1]

By the time he finished the second poem, Ianto was asleep. He kept reading for another half hour, noticing that Ianto seemed more peaceful when he could hear Jack. Eventually Jack stopped reading, and sat watching the fire. And Ianto. Truth be told, he watched Ianto more than the fire.

That kiss… It had been a revelation. Jack missed kissing. He rarely bothered, any more. When he could be arsed to go out on the pull. Despite all his big talk, he really didn’t sleep around all that much, any more. Hadn’t in about a decade, now.

In fact, he was surprised to realize, he hadn’t even opened the box of condoms he’d bought on New Year’s Eve. And that realization bothered him far less than he thought it should. He shook his head. Even when he did bother to go out on the pull, he didn’t kiss. It was just too… intimate. But he missed intimacy. And he missed kissing. It was why Gwen’s kiss had turned his head, early on.

What had been toe-curling about Ianto’s kiss was not just that it was a truly fantastic snog. He grinned as he realized that Ianto’s answer to Gwen’s silly game would be different, now. And it definitely had been fantastic. No, what had been utterly extraordinary had been the sensation of being the complete focus of Ianto’s attention.

For all his ability to disappear into the background, Ianto was a very intense individual. And his focus could be laser sharp and incredibly profound. To have the full power of that intensity and focus aimed at him, Jack felt honored and humbled and beyond aroused. He was now pretty sure he knew what was holding Ianto back, and he was confident that he could help. It was just a matter of them talking it through, and Ianto healing enough to continue the… conversation they’d begun in the shower.

Jack drifted off with a smile on his face.

***

Jack was awakened several hours later by Ianto, muttering in his sleep. He set aside the blanket and stood, stretching, not realizing that Ianto was becoming more distressed. Before he could reach out to wake up the younger man, he was crying out.

“Collin! Look out!” Then a moment later, “NO!”

Ianto bolted from the chair, somehow landing beyond the ottoman. Jack caught him before he could pitch into the hearth. “I’ve got you, Ianto.”

Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack and clung to him, his breathing harsh and ragged. Jack held him and ran his hands along Ianto’s shoulders, trying to remember where he could touch without aggravating a bruise. “You’re all right. It was just a dream.”

After a few minutes, Ianto calmed. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose on a handkerchief Jack handed him. “Sorry,” he muttered. He hadn’t had that particular dream in a very long time.

Collin had died before Ianto could do anything.

Collin Creevey had been in Ianto’s class at Hogwarts, though he’d been sorted to Gryffindor. The battle had been an unimaginable horror. Ianto had seen the Death Eaters bearing down on Collin, but his hands had been full, and he couldn’t shift between the firewhisky bottle and his broom and his wand quickly enough to help prevent his classmate’s death. But he was able to avenge his friend. Those Death Eaters had died of the burns from the firewhisky bomb Ianto had thrown at them, in the instant after Collin fell.

Ianto still wondered what that made him, but he could not find it in him to regret it, though those moments did continue to haunt his dreams, all these years later.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jack replied, his voice pitched low. Ianto realized that though he must have cried out, he hadn’t roused the others. He was grateful that he had not disturbed them. “Would you like to talk about it, though?”

“Just old ghosts, stirred up by…” he frowned, realizing he didn’t have words to describe the experience he’d just been through.

“Recent events?” Jack supplied, the corner of his mouth quirking.

Ianto nodded. Jack helped him back into the chair, and he asked for more water. As he drank, he looked at the clock on the mantle, surprised he’d slept almost four hours. “It seems later than a quarter past midnight,” he remarked.

“Well, we turned in a bit early. End of a long couple of days.”

Ianto hummed his agreement. He felt like he was beginning to calm, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep again, just yet. He was relieved when Jack decided to talk.

“So… Owen and Gwen. What do you reckon?”

“Not my place to say, Sir,” Ianto said, a smile gracing his lips. This was a familiar dance. Ianto would demure to assuage his conscience, and Jack would press, and then they’d gossip like a couple of old hens.

“I don’t know. I can’t really place when they started orbiting one another,” Jack said with a knowing smile.

Ianto was reluctant to say, but he wasn’t quick enough to try to mask it. Jack caught the expression and pressed for an answer.

“I believe it was when she realized you weren’t some knight of yore in gleaming armor riding a… some sort of steed.”

“Careful, your adjectives are slipping.”

“Head injury. I think my adjectives have every right to slip.”

Jack chuckled. “So the faeries, huh? But why would her disillusionment with me cause her to run into Owen’s arms?”

“They do seem to have some sort of love/hate spark between them. And she probably wouldn’t have even noticed, if not for…” he waved a hand lazily in Jack’s direction. “She is quite infatuated with you, you know. Despite her disillusionment.”

Jack scoffed. “It always starts off that way, and then they always end up hating me for not being whatever fantasy they created, to begin with. I never claimed to be a shiny knight on a steed of yore.”

“It does seem rather unfair,” Ianto agreed. “Don’t let it get you down, Jack. You’re perfectly fine, just as you are.” His eyes were closed, so he did not see the shy, humble smile that his words had inspired.

“Thank you, Ianto,” Jack whispered.

Ianto smiled and drank more water. “To be fair, I don’t think anything has happened, yet. Other than a snog when they left the pub after drinking a great deal, that night, after...”

“After Jasmine?”

Ianto nodded.

“How do you know this?” Jack asked, surprised.

“Owen’s a braggart.”

“Kind of surprised he was bragging to you, though.”

“Usually he just shouts it to the rafters, but even he knew better than to do that, then.”

“What changed?”

Ianto shrugged. “They’re like two magnets. They’re charged now, so it’s just a matter of time before they crash into one another. You know how it goes. You know something’s going to happen, but it doesn’t happen quickly enough, so you revert to primary school and pull her pigtails.”

Jack chuckled. He realized that he hadn’t done that to Ianto, unless trying to kiss him the day before his dead fiancé’s birthday counted. He winced. He hoped that wasn’t what that was.

“Thank you for not doing that, by the way,” Ianto said quietly, once again seeming to read Jack’s thoughts.

“You don’t have pigtails,” Jack gave him a smile as he chuckled and circled back to an easier topic. “So what happens when the polarity of the magnets is inevitably reversed?”

“They’ll become strongly repelled. And for the team’s sake, we can only hope they’ll still be able to work together.”

Jack shook his head. “I thought having Rhys would help her stay grounded.”

“Yes, but she’s forced to keep so many things from him. He’d help her stay grounded if she could talk to him.” Ianto hesitated before asking, “Would you consider reading him in?”

“I’d rather not, but we’ll see.”

“Why not?” Ianto asked, then quickly added, “I’m not arguing, I’m just curious.”

“Just feels like a bad idea.”

Ianto nodded. “I hope you’ll think about it, though. Lying to him is going to drive a wedge between them. She’d probably be able to resist this… whatever… with Owen if she had Rhys, free and clear.”

“You seem to have thought this through. What’s the downside?”

“His nickname is ‘Rhys the Rant’. We’d need to be certain he can keep his mouth shut, when it counts.”

Jack was impressed. Ianto had really looked at this from every angle, stress testing his recommendation and being honest about potential points of weakness. He opened his mouth to praise the younger man when a scream pierced the flat.

Owen could be heard stumbling out of the guest room. “Gwen!”

Ianto was sitting up, and Jack had stood from his chair. “Go to Toshiko, Jack. That was Gwen, but the screaming can’t have done Tosh any good. Owen’s going to be focused on Gwen…”

Jack nodded. As usual, Ianto’s perceptive insight was correct. Tosh was curled up, crying as Owen held and soothed Gwen after her nightmare. Jack pulled her up and hauled her into his arms, holding her as she cried.

As he whispered comforting words into her hair, he saw Ianto walking stiffly to the bathroom and then, a few minutes later, he made his way back down the hall again. A faint light told him Ianto was in the kitchen, and he was willing to bet the younger man was making tea for everyone.

By the time Gwen and Tosh were calm again, Ianto was making his way back down the hall bearing a tray with two mugs of tea. “There’s more for you and Owen in the kitchen,” he wheezed, the task of making the tea and bringing it to them having clearly exhausted him.

Jack left Owen administering more painkillers before leaving the ladies to their tea. He took Ianto by the elbow and held him steady as they walked back to his chair. He helped Ianto settle back in and then fetched the remaining three mugs of tea. He and Ianto had just taken their first sips when Owen reappeared.

The doctor gave Ianto a shot of painkillers and sat on the hearth drinking his tea and chatting idly with Jack and Ianto, watching over the latter as the meds finally began to take effect. Once Ianto finished his tea, he drifted off, once more.

***

The following days passed in a blur of powerful medication that barely touched the pain of Ianto’s injuries. The others stayed close the next day, and they all napped and watched movies and ate and chatted idly. They stayed the night again, and then left the next morning. Ianto gave Draco and Luna the all-clear, and they came by so Draco could check on Ianto. A few additional spells and potions helped to alleviate a bit more of Ianto’s pain.

Harry, Hermione, and Kingsley visited as well. Ianto told them what happened, but did not need to give an official report, since no magic or magical creatures were involved. He did request permission to carry his wand once again, but was unsurprised when the request was denied.

Kingsley sensed Ianto’s resentment, though it was morphing into something far more disturbing: resignation. And the growing conviction that the Ministry did not care that Ianto would, in all likelihood, die needlessly in service to Torchwood, when his magic could almost certainly save him.

Owen forbad Ianto returning to the hub for at least a week, and only then after Owen cleared him. So he stayed at home and slept as much as he could, and allowed himself to heal. He slept in his chair for the first four nights. Jack joined him each evening and they ate takeaway or something Molly Weasley had sent. Then they’d sit and talk until the pain pills Owen had prescribed kicked in. Jack woke Ianto from each nightmare, and Ianto even roused Jack from his own, one night.

On the fifth night, Ianto announced over dinner that the headache had eased enough that he thought he might actually be able to sleep in the bed, that night. He was secretly pleased that Jack looked a tiny bit disappointed. They watched a movie, and when Ianto could no longer keep his eyes open, he stood. Jack stood as well, looking awkward until Ianto smiled and held out his hand.

“Come on, then.”

***

[1] Opening lines of “A Psalm of Life”, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! A particularly awful holiday dried up all the words, for a while. They're starting to trickle again, but it's slow going. Sorry. 
> 
> I've missed posting, and all of the wonderful comments. Thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy this quiet interlude.
> 
> Happy (belated) New Year!


End file.
